THROUGH A WINDOW
After his legs were set, they carried Bailey into the study and puthim on a couch before the open window. There he lay, a live--even afeverish man down to the loins, and below that a double-barrelledmummy swathed in white wrappings. He tried to read, even tried towrite a little, but most of the time he looked out of the window.
He had thought the window cheerful to begin with, but now he thankedGod for it many times a day. Within, the room was dim and grey, andin the reflected light the wear of the furniture showed plainly. Hismedicine and drink stood on the little table, with such litter as thebare branches of a bunch of grapes or the ashes of a cigar upon agreen plate, or a day old evening paper. The view outside was floodedwith light, and across the corner of it came the head of the acacia,and at the foot the top of the balcony-railing of hammered iron. Inthe foreground was the weltering silver of the river, never quiet andyet never tiresome. Beyond was the reedy bank, a broad stretch ofmeadow land, and then a dark line of trees ending in a group ofpoplars at the distant bend of the river, and, upstanding behind them,a square church tower.
Up and down the river, all day long, things were passing. Now a stringof barges drifting down to London, piled with lime or barrels of beer;then a steam-launch, disengaging heavy masses of black smoke, anddisturbing the whole width of the river with long rolling waves; thenan impetuous electric launch, and then a boatload of pleasure-seekers,a solitary sculler, or a four from some rowing club. Perhaps the riverwas quietest of a morning or late at night. One moonlight night somepeople drifted down singing, and with a zither playing--it soundedvery pleasantly across the water.
In a few days Bailey began to recognise some of the craft; in a weekhe knew the intimate history of half-a-dozen. The launch _Luzon_, fromFitzgibbon's, two miles up, would go fretting by, sometimes three orfour times a day, conspicuous with its colouring of Indian-red andyellow, and its two Oriental attendants; and one day, to Bailey's vastamusement, the house-boat _Purple Emperor_ came to a stop outside, andbreakfasted in the most shameless domesticity. Then one afternoon, thecaptain of a slow-moving barge began a quarrel with his wife as theycame into sight from the left, and had carried it to personal violencebefore he vanished behind the window-frame to the right. Baileyregarded all this as an entertainment got up to while away hisillness, and applauded all the more moving incidents. Mrs Green,coming in at rare intervals with his meals, would catch him clappinghis hands or softly crying, "Encore!" But the river players had otherengagements, and his encore went unheeded.
"I should never have thought I could take such an interest in thingsthat did not concern me," said Bailey to Wilderspin, who used to comein in his nervous, friendly way and try to comfort the sufferer bybeing talked to. "I thought this idle capacity was distinctive oflittle children and old maids. But it's just circumstances. I simplycan't work, and things have to drift; it's no good to fret andstruggle. And so I lie here and am as amused as a baby with a rattle,at this river and its affairs.
"Sometimes, of course, it gets a bit dull, but not often.
"I would give anything, Wilderspin, for a swamp--just one swamp--once.Heads swimming and a steam launch to the rescue, and a chap or sohauled out with a boat-hook.... There goes Fitzgibbon's launch! Theyhave a new boat-hook, I see, and the little blackie is still in thedumps. I don't think he's very well, Wilderspin. He's been like thatfor two or three days, squatting sulky-fashion and meditating over thechurning of the water. Unwholesome for him to be always staring at thefrothy water running away from the stern."
They watched the little steamer fuss across the patch of sunlit river,suffer momentary occultation from the acacia, and glide out of sightbehind the dark window-frame.
"I'm getting a wonderful eye for details," said Bailey: "I spottedthat new boat-hook at once. The other nigger is a funny little chap.He never used to swagger with the old boat-hook like that."
"Malays, aren't they?" said Wilderspin.
"Don't know," said Bailey. "I thought one called all that sort ofmanner Lascar."
Then he began to tell Wilderspin what he knew of the private affairsof the houseboat, _Purple Emperor_. "Funny," he said, "how thesepeople come from all points of the compass--from Oxford and Windsor,from Asia and Africa--and gather and pass opposite the window justto entertain me. One man floated out of the infinite the day beforeyesterday, caught one perfect crab opposite, lost and recovered ascull, and passed on again. Probably he will never come into my lifeagain. So far as I am concerned, he has lived and had his littletroubles, perhaps thirty--perhaps forty--years on the earth, merelyto make an ass of himself for three minutes in front of my window.Wonderful thing, Wilderspin, if you come to think of it."
"Yes," said Wilderspin; "_isn't_ it?"
A day or two after this Bailey had a brilliant morning. Indeed,towards the end of the affair, it became almost as exciting as anywindow show very well could be. We will, however, begin at thebeginning.
Bailey was all alone in the house, for his housekeeper had gone intothe town three miles away to pay bills, and the servant had herholiday. The morning began dull. A canoe went up about half-past nine,and later a boat-load of camping men came down. But this was meremargin. Things became cheerful about ten o'clock.
It began with something white fluttering in the remote distance wherethe three poplars marked the river bend. "Pocket-handkerchief," saidBailey, when he saw it "No. Too big! Flag perhaps."
However, it was not a flag, for it jumped about. "Man in whitesrunning fast, and this way," said Bailey. "That's luck! But his whitesare precious loose!"
Then a singular thing happened. There was a minute pink gleam amongthe dark trees in the distance, and a little puff of pale grey thatbegan to drift and vanish eastward. The man in white jumped andcontinued running. Presently the report of the shot arrived.
"What the devil!" said Bailey. "Looks as if someone was shooting athim."
He sat up stiffly and stared hard. The white figure was coming alongthe pathway through the corn. "It's one of those niggers from theFitzgibbon's," said Bailey; "or may I be hanged! I wonder why he keepssawing with his arm."
Then three other figures became indistinctly visible against the darkbackground of the trees.
Abruptly on the opposite bank a man walked into the picture. He wasblack-bearded, dressed in flannels, had a red belt, and a vast greyfelt hat. He walked, leaning very much forward and with his handsswinging before him. Behind him one could see the grass swept by thetowing-rope of the boat he was dragging. He was steadfastly regardingthe white figure that was hurrying through the corn. Suddenly hestopped. Then, with a peculiar gesture, Bailey could see that he beganpulling in the tow-rope hand over hand. Over the water could be heardthe voices of the people in the still invisible boat.
"What are you after, Hagshot?" said someone.
The individual with the red belt shouted something that was inaudible,and went on lugging in the rope, looking over his shoulder at theadvancing white figure as he did so. He came down the bank, and therope bent a lane among the reeds and lashed the water between hispulls.
Then just the bows of the boat came into view, with the towing-mastand a tall, fair-haired man standing up and trying to see over thebank. The boat bumped unexpectedly among the reeds, and the tall,fair-haired man disappeared suddenly, having apparently fallen backinto the invisible part of the boat. There was a curse and someindistinct laughter. Hagshot did not laugh, but hastily clambered intothe boat and pushed off. Abruptly the boat passed out of Bailey'ssight.
But it was still audible. The melody of voices suggested that itsoccupants were busy telling each other what to do.
The running figure was drawing near the bank. Bailey could now seeclearly that it was one of Fitzgibbon's Orientals, and began torealise what the sinuous thing the man carried in his hand mightbe. Three other men followed one another through the corn, and theforemost carried what was probably the gun. They were perhaps twohundred yards or more behind the Malay.
"It's a
man hunt, by all that's holy!" said Bailey.
The Malay stopped for a moment and surveyed the bank to the right.Then he left the path, and, breaking through the corn, vanished inthat direction. The three pursuers followed suit, and their heads andgesticulating arms above the corn, after a brief interval, also wentout of Bailey's field of vision.
Bailey so far forgot himself as to swear. "Just as things were gettinglively!" he said. Something like a woman's shriek came through theair. Then shouts, a howl, a dull whack upon the balcony outside thatmade Bailey jump, and then the report of a gun.
"This is precious hard on an invalid," said Bailey.
But more was to happen yet in his picture. In fact, a great deal more.The Malay appeared again, running now along the bank up stream.His stride had more swing and less pace in it than before. He wasthreatening someone ahead with the ugly krees he carried. The blade,Bailey noticed, was dull--it did not shine as steel should.
Then came the tall, fair man, brandishing a boat-hook, and after himthree other men in boating costume, running clumsily with oars.The man with the grey hat and red belt was not with them. After aninterval the three men with the gun reappeared, still in the corn,but now near the river bank. They emerged upon the towing-path,and hurried after the others. The opposite bank was left blank anddesolate again.
The sick-room was disgraced by more profanity. "I would give my lifeto see the end of this," said Bailey. There were indistinct shouts upstream. Once they seemed to be coming nearer, but they disappointedhim.
Bailey sat and grumbled. He was still grumbling when his eye caughtsomething black and round among the waves. "Hullo!" he said. He lookednarrowly and saw two triangular black bodies frothing every now andthen about a yard in front of this.
He was still doubtful when the little band of pursuers came into sightagain, and began to point to this floating object. They were talkingeagerly. Then the man with the gun took aim.
"He's swimming the river, by George!" said Bailey.
The Malay looked round, saw the gun, and went under. He came up soclose to Bailey's bank of the river that one of the bars of thebalcony hid him for a moment. As he emerged the man with the gunfired. The Malay kept steadily onward--Bailey could see the wet hairon his forehead now and the krees between his teeth--and was presentlyhidden by the balcony.
This seemed to Bailey an unendurable wrong. The man was lost to himfor ever now, so he thought. Why couldn't the brute have got himselfdecently caught on the opposite bank, or shot in the water?
"It's worse than Edwin Drood," said Bailey.
Over the river, too, things had become an absolute blank. All sevenmen had gone down stream again, probably to get the boat and followacross. Bailey listened and waited. There was silence. "Surely it'snot over like this," said Bailey.
Five minutes passed--ten minutes. Then a tug with two barges went upstream. The attitudes of the men upon these were the attitudes ofthose who see nothing remarkable in earth, water, or sky. Clearly thewhole affair had passed out of sight of the river. Probably the hunthad gone into the beech woods behind the house.
"Confound it!" said Bailey. "To be continued again, and no chance thistime of the sequel. But this is hard on a sick man."
He heard a step on the staircase behind him and looking round saw thedoor open. Mrs Green came in and sat down, panting. She still had herbonnet on, her purse in her hand, and her little brown basket upon herarm. "Oh, there!" she said, and left Bailey to imagine the rest.
"Have a little whisky and water, Mrs Green, and tell me about it,"said Bailey.
Sipping a little, the lady began to recover her powers of explanation.
One of those black creatures at the Fitzgibbon's had gone mad, andwas running about with a big knife, stabbing people. He had killeda groom, and stabbed the under-butler, and almost cut the arm off aboating gentleman.
"Running amuck with a krees," said Bailey. "I thought that was it."
And he was hiding in the wood when she came through it from the town.
"What! Did he run after you?" asked Bailey, with a certain touch ofglee in his voice.
"No, that was the horrible part of it," Mrs Green explained. She hadbeen right through the woods and had _never known he was there_. Itwas only when she met young Mr Fitzgibbon carrying his gun in theshrubbery that she heard anything about it. Apparently, what upsetMrs Green was the lost opportunity for emotion. She was determined,however, to make the most of what was left her.
"To think he was there all the time!" she said, over and over again.
Bailey endured this patiently enough for perhaps ten minutes. At lasthe thought it advisable to assert himself. "It's twenty past one, MrsGreen," he said. "Don't you think it time you got me something toeat?"
This brought Mrs Green suddenly to her knees.
"Oh Lord, sir!" she said. "Oh! don't go making me go out of this room,sir, till I know he's caught. He might have got into the house, sir.He might be creeping, creeping, with that knife of his, along thepassage this very--"
She broke off suddenly and glared over him at the window. Her lowerjaw dropped. Bailey turned his head sharply.
For the space of half a second things seemed just as they were. Therewas the tree, the balcony, the shining river, the distant churchtower. Then he noticed that the acacia was displaced about a foot tothe right, and that it was quivering, and the leaves were rustling.The tree was shaken violently, and a heavy panting was audible.
In another moment a hairy brown hand had appeared and clutched thebalcony railings, and in another the face of the Malay was peeringthrough these at the man on the couch. His expression was anunpleasant grin, by reason of the krees he held between his teeth,and he was bleeding from an ugly wound in his cheek. His hair wet todrying stuck out like horns from his head. His body was bare save forthe wet trousers that clung to him. Bailey's first impulse was tospring from the couch, but his legs reminded him that this wasimpossible.
By means of the balcony and tree the man slowly raised himself untilhe was visible to Mrs Green. With a choking cry she made for the doorand fumbled with the handle.
Bailey thought swiftly and clutched a medicine bottle in eitherhand. One he flung, and it smashed against the acacia. Silently anddeliberately, and keeping his bright eyes fixed on Bailey, the Malayclambered into the balcony. Bailey, still clutching his second bottle,but with a sickening, sinking feeling about his heart, watched firstone leg come over the railing and then the other.
It was Bailey's impression that the Malay took about an hour to gethis second leg over the rail. The period that elapsed before thesitting position was changed to a standing one seemed enormous--days,weeks, possibly a year or so. Yet Bailey had no clear impression ofanything going on in his mind during that vast period, except a vaguewonder at his inability to throw the second medicine bottle. Suddenlythe Malay glanced over his shoulder. There was the crack of a rifle.He flung up his arms and came down upon the couch. Mrs Green began adismal shriek that seemed likely to last until Doomsday. Bailey staredat the brown body with its shoulder blade driven in, that writhedpainfully across his legs and rapidly staining and soaking thespotless bandages. Then he looked at the long krees, with the reddishstreaks upon its blade, that lay an inch beyond the trembling brownfingers upon the floor. Then at Mrs Green, who had backed hard againstthe door and was staring at the body and shrieking in gusty outburstsas if she would wake the dead. And then the body was shaken by onelast convulsive effort.
The Malay gripped the krees, tried to raise himself with his lefthand, and collapsed. Then he raised his head, stared for a momentat Mrs Green, and twisting his face round looked at Bailey. With agasping groan the dying man succeeded in clutching the bed clotheswith his disabled hand, and by a violent effort, which hurt Bailey'slegs exceedingly, writhed sideways towards what must be his lastvictim. Then something seemed released in Bailey's mind and he broughtdown the second bottle with all his strength on to the Malay's face.The krees fell heavily upon the floor.
"Easy with those legs," said Bailey, as young Fitzgibbon and one ofthe boating party lifted the body off him.
Young Fitzgibbon was very white in the face. "I didn't mean to killhim," he said.
"It's just as well," said Bailey.